uh...

Me: "Ellie, let's sing the boots song. B-O-O-T-S, boots"

Ellie: "B-U-T-T-S, boots"

Me (thinking): um, surely that was an accident. Let's see...

Me: "How about we sing our ABC's instead?"

Pay It Foward

Last month when Chad was staying with Patrick & Kacy, he told me about a day that the neighbor was outside struggling to lay several pallets of sod by himself. Patrick, Chad and another neighbor went over and helped this guy lay out his yard. Obviously this guy was appreciative but Chad just went on and on about how good it felt to help him out.

Today, Chad was that man; outside struggling in his yard. He rented an agar to dig our fence post holes and was outside struggling to use it alone when our neighbor donned his work gloves and came over to help.

Today, I was that person too. In the midst of a huge hormonal breakdown about boxes and boxes and a bored Ellie and a messy house, Kacy called to see if she could take Ellie for the day. I pushed back all my tears and accepted, pretending it was no big deal. Why can't I just admit that I'm struggling? I don't feel good, in fact, I feel bad. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep until the start of my second trimester. I'm a yo-yo of emotions between thrilled about new starts and devastated about change.

Why is it so humbling to ask for help? We know that we aren't created to go at life alone. Scripture is full of examples: a help-meet, cousins, tribes, daughters-in-law, disciples and on and on but for some reason we are fooled into believing that we must be a failure if we are unable to carry the load alone. I do pretty well with the outright lies of Satan. It's the sneaky whispers that always get me.

Today I learned (again) that true friends are the ones who make you accept help even when you're convinced you shouldn't need it...even if in the big scheme of things, boxes just don't matter.

placenta

okay, this may be a little crude but jenny and i have a theory that the larger your placenta grows during pregnancy, the dumber you become. we always call out "placenta" when the pregnant one makes an error. well, my placental moments have officially arrived.

i have been searching and searching for the shelves to ellie's bookcase. i've opened every long box that they could possibly be packed in, looked and looked in the garage, grumbled under my breath that the movers probably forgot to unload them or stole them (because of course, plywood shelves are quite valuable) and just when i gave up and told myself i would have to buy a new bookcase, i found them...stacked neatly in the bookcase, on the bottom shelf.

man, i could eat some fruity pebbles right now...

casualities

we continue to swim in a sea of cardboard and numbered stickers but everyone has a bed cleared off to sleep in. i love being back in the country. we pass a couple of horse ranches and some cows every time we go to town and ellie squeals with excitement. slowly but surely we are getting things put away. as of right now, there have been two casualities...ellie's dresser exploded on the moving truck (i think they dropped it) and my crock pot shattered (which is a blessing because i needed a new one anyway).

we've met almost all of our neighbors and they are very nice. in fact, so nice that it's slightly suspicious but i think i'd just gotten used to the unfriendliness of fayetteville.

i miss my girlfriends terribly and i miss ellie's friends for her. to everyone who helped us out last week, thank-you again so much. you girls were my saving grace! i wish i could have packed all of you up, slapped an orange sticker on you and brought you along...

pics to come soon, i promise!

Bluoughghgh!!!

I've not been blogging because I am...
so nauseous
so sleepy
so moody
so in need of a 44 oz diet coke

In other news, my fast food obsession has reared it's ugly head again. Yesterday, I opened Jenny's pantry and started crying because she had yogurt covered pretzels and then I got very sad about not being able to stand in Jenny's pantry anymore after we move.

lucky seven

Sunday is our 7th wedding anniversary so I've written a short story depicting our lives.

Once upon a time there was a 19 year old girl that fell in love with a 27 year old man. They married and lived peacefully in their 16 x 60 single wide trailor next door to her parents. One week later, they adopted their first furry child, Pyro. The girl spent her days tending to tedious school work and writing care plans for her clinical patients. The man spent his days in medical school.

The second year, they moved to 5 acres outside of Tulsa and upgraded to a 32 x 60 double wide and adopted the second furry creature. The third year the girl finished college and began her work in the NICU at Tulsa Regional. The man donned his short white coat and began his clinical process.

During the fourth year, the man traded in the short white coat for Army camoflauge and a cross country move was made. No more trailors for these kids, they upgraded to a real house. They welcomed a beautiful baby girl. The man, the girl, and the baby continued to live their lovely lives for years five and six.

Year seven will no doubt bring great joy to this family. Another move is fast approaching and yes, baby number two is now on the way.